Parent and Child
by idealskeptic
Summary: Set between the end of Mockingjay and the Epilogue, this is the story of how Haymitch Abernathy became a father and, even more importantly, a grandfather without ever having a child of his own.


**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N: **This is a post-_Mockingjay_, pre-Epilogue one-shot. So, you know, if you haven't read that and don't want to be spoiled … move along. Other than that, it's just a little one-shot that, with my love of Haymitch, I can totally see happening…

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**Parent and Child**

It seemed like just yesterday that Effie had asked him to stand in for her father and give Katniss away at her wedding. He'd been all too eager to do it, to let Peeta take care of her. He'd wanted to pass off responsibility for her to someone else. He hadn't realized it then, but he'd had a very good reason for wanting that – she was the daughter he never had and it scared him that he might lose her if he wasn't vigilant enough.

He'd covered it well, though, and no one was any the wiser – not even him.

The wedding never happened, not in the Capitol and not in District 12. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wasn't a stickler for old traditions like marriage vows, but something down deep inside of him couldn't shake the feeling that Katniss and Peeta might be happier if they went ahead and toasted the bread. He understood their reasons for not doing it; Prim's death, Peeta's family's death, the absence of Katniss' mother, but he wanted nothing more than for them to be happy and safe. So, fifteen years on, he'd been on the brink of throwing them a damn wedding when they came to him with their news.

They were having a baby.

Katniss, of course, had looked scared silly and Peeta, of course, had looked tickled pink. All was as it should be, in his eyes.

Marriage didn't seem so important when you compared it to having a child. That was so much more important.

Not only was a new child a symbol of the future and of having hope in the broadest sense, it meant so much more for the two people he'd come to realize were, for all intents and purposes, his kids – even if they were thirty-two now.

It meant their wounds, once so deep they seemed fatal, had finally healed. It meant they'd realized they could _live_ again without guilt over the ones who'd lost their lives in the Rebellion. Katniss and Peeta had realized that it was okay to love and be loved and give love.

He'd been waiting fifteen long years for that and he was relieved the time had finally arrived. He'd kept all that to himself, though, until they went back to their house and he was left alone. Then he'd done something he'd done more times in the last few decades than he cared to count – he cried.

Not tears of sadness and anger and frustration, though. This time he cried tears of happiness and relief and joy.

As the months passed, he spent more and more time with the expectant parents.

They needed him. They knew it and he knew it.

Peeta asked him to stay close in case he had a flashback due to his hijacking. He didn't have them that often anymore, and Katniss had always been able to talk him through them, but he didn't want to accidentally hurt her, not while she was pregnant. So he asked for help and he got it.

Katniss didn't ask for help, because she still wasn't sure how to. But he knew she needed it, so he gave it to her – just as he always had. When she was paralyzed by fear for her child, plagued by memories of the Hunger Games and the Rebellion, he wrapped her in his arms and held her close. She let Peeta comfort her after nightmares, just as he always had, but she tried to keep the waking terrors from him. When they struck, she ran across the yard and into the arms the mentor who'd become her father.

They both knew it, even if they'd yet to admit it … even to themselves.

Now he stood in the kitchen of their house, but he didn't stay there long. He couldn't stay in one place. He had to move. Pacing was the only thing he could do while he waited.

He was so wrapped in what would soon happen that the thought of drinking only crossed his mind when he realized that it had _yet_ to cross his mind. He was momentarily distracted from what was going on upstairs by the realization. And then he went back to pacing.

He only noticed Peeta leave through the back door when Posy appeared in front of him.

"He's just taking a break," she explained. "Katniss wants to see you."

In another lifetime, he might have protested. He might have tried to avoid going upstairs to where the child would soon be born. Not now, though. Now he pushed past the Hawthorne girl and took the stairs two at a time like the young man he had once been.

"I'm scared," she said as soon as he appeared in the doorway.

He took stock of the situation. He recognized the fear in her eyes but he saw the determination too, and he knew she'd be okay in the end. The end hadn't come yet, though, so he went to her and held her once again. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured. "You can do this. I know you can. You know it too, don't you?"

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, squeezing his hands as another pain ran its course. When it had, she spoke again. "I can do this part. It just hurts. But what about tomorrow? And the next day? And the day after that?"

He hated to remind her of the most horrible parts of her life, but he had to. "How did you get through the Games, sweetheart? How did you get through the Rebellion? You did it one day at a time, even if it looked like tomorrow would kill you. That's all you have to do now – just go one day at a time. Only this won't kill you."

"It might," she argued, still as stubborn as ever. "What if something happens to the baby?"

"Sweetheart, _you're_ not going to let anything happen to the baby," he reminded her gruffly. She wouldn't expect him to coddle her and he didn't intend to. "_Peeta_ isn't going to let anything happen to the baby. _I'm_ not going to let anything happen to the baby."

She looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "You already like the baby?"

"Course I do," he said. "I like you, don't I? The baby's bound to be cuter and nicer."

Katniss laughed in spite of her fear and her pain. "Whatever you say, Uncle Haymitch."

Peeta came back with Posy then so no one noticed him scowl.

He tried to sneak away but she begged him stay, so he did. He held her hand and encouraged her as Peeta did the same on the other side of the bed.

When Katniss got impatient for her child to be born, he reminded her that the baby was probably just stubborn – like her mother. It was the nudge she needed to summon her strength and do exactly what he'd made it sound like he didn't expect her to do … give up.

The little girl was born ten minutes later.

He retreated to the corner of the room and watched as Katniss and Peeta got to know their daughter. Once Posy tidied up the room, she retreated downstairs and he made to follow her, but Peeta asked him to stay … so he did.

"What's her name?" he asked, coming to stand closer to the bed.

"We haven't been able to pick one yet," Katniss told him. "Do you have any ideas?"

"You're her parents, shouldn't you be the ones to name her?" he countered gruffly. He regretted his gruffness when the tiny child's bright blue eyes opened just long enough to seem to scold him.

"We're not asking you to name her," Peeta clarified patiently. "We're only asking if you have any ideas about _what_ to name her."

He came very close to gruffness again, intending to tell them he'd never thought about what to name a person and that he wasn't about to start now. But then it came to him.

"Delilah," he blurted out. He knew they were going to ask why he said that, so he told them before they could. "Remember that story you told about Peeta giving you the burned bread? You said something about seeing a dandelion the next day and knowing things were going to be okay. Delilah's sort of like dandelion, so name her Delilah."

He glanced up from the baby and saw that he'd brought her parents to tears, so he looked back at the baby.

"You remember that story?" Peeta asked.

He nodded in reply and looked at Katniss warily.

She, in turn, looked at Peeta – he nodded.

"Delilah Mellark," Katniss announced, smiling through her tears. "It's perfect. Thank you, Haymitch."

He stayed with the newly expanded family until they all fell asleep. He didn't move even then. He would keep watch over them as long as there was a heart beating in his body. Maybe even after that. They were his family. He didn't know just how, or when, or even why, but they'd become his family. He wasn't ever going to let them go.

When he heard the soft mewls begin, he got up and walked to the cradle where the newly born and named baby girl had been nestled safely. Moving on impulse, he lifted her up and returned to his post in the rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom. He was worried, at first, that he was holding her wrong, but she stopped making noise so he sat down and settled her into the crook of his arm.

For a long time, he only looked at her.

She was sleeping, so there wasn't much else to do.

When she woke up though, he couldn't help but fall for her.

"Yeah, Delilah's a good name for you," he declared in a soft whisper when she fixed her blue eyes on him. "You're a lucky girl, you know that? Your parents don't think much of themselves sometimes, but I can tell you they're the two best, strongest, most loving people I've ever known. Don't you _ever_ let anybody, even them, tell you different."

She cooed in what he took to be understanding and he smiled.

"You're a smart one, aren't you?" he said as he slowly rocked the chair. "I knew you would be. Just like your mother and your father. And me. That reminds me, your mother called me Uncle Haymitch. We both know I'm not your Uncle Haymitch, don't we? No, we know better than your mother. We know I'm Grandpa Haymitch, don't we, princess?"

What Grandpa Haymitch didn't know, even as Delilah cooed again agreeably, was that he'd made his surrogate children cry again.

They'd woken up and heard just want they wanted to hear, just what they'd wanted to ask him but never knew how.

They wanted their daughter to have a grandfather and they wanted it to be their surrogate father. They wanted her grandfather to be Haymitch.

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**Thanks for reading! **If you liked it, won't you please leave me a review and tell me so?


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